


touch me there, make me feel like I’m breathin’

by Ann1215



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Degradation, Face-Fucking, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, mention of gangbang, only slightly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29873727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann1215/pseuds/Ann1215
Summary: Shugo stares at him. “Sakusa. Yer obviously goin’ through a rough time, and I wanna do what I can ta help. I’m yer captain, after all.”Seconds stretch into an eternity, but Shugo’s pretty well-known for his patience. He’s willing to wait, whichever way this might end up going.Sakusa manages to meet his eyes in the end, and his voice is firm when he asks, “You’d… Find someone for me? Or…” He gives Shugo the fastest onceover he’s ever received, but it doesn’t successfully hide the interest in Sakusa’s look, burning with a flash. “Are you literally going to give me a helping hand?”
Relationships: Inunaki Shion/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Meian Shuugo/Inunaki Shion/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Meian Shuugo/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 126
Collections: Bottomi Week 2021





	touch me there, make me feel like I’m breathin’

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of Bottomi Week
> 
> Tier 1: Voyeurism/Exhibitonism  
> Tier 2: Degradation  
> Tier 3: “Tears of joy? How cute.”
> 
> ***
> 
> this is pure filth. I just wanted to wreck omi. you may perceive me because this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written so if you're looking for my usual brand of sweet fluff slash hurt/comfort umm may I direct you to literally everything else I've ever done.
> 
> but if you're here for the porn well I hope I deliver. pls heed the tags!
> 
> ps uh yes I did give meian a kansai accent just because of that one hc

“Gotta say,” Shugo grunts, lips curling up at the sight of Sakusa’s hole fluttering around his cock, tightening up around him like Sakusa was unwilling to let himself go empty for even a moment, as Shugo plays with a perked bud, “Yer comments _are_ pretty funny sometimes. But I think ya look best with yer mouth stuffed and ass plugged up like this.”

A laugh echoes around the empty locker room, but it doesn’t hide Sakusa’s embarrassed whine, muffled by another dick currently pistoning in and out of his mouth, choking off the rest of his noises.

“Mm. You do make a pretty little slut, Sakusa-kun.”

* * *

As captain, Shugo’s duty-bound to ensure that he’s got at least some basic information on every single prospect for the team, and he’s spent the last three years watching Sakusa Kiyoomi on the college circuit when the coach had broached the subject of recruiting him. Sakusa’s power on the court is undeniable—but Shugo wonders if he gets along with his teammates, and how he would work with MSBY’s team dynamics.

When the time eventually comes, Shugo learns that Sakusa isn’t as prickly as Atsumu had claimed, but it’s obvious the man’s got boundaries; he doesn’t accept high fives, celebratory embraces or even a pat on the back for a point scored, and when Shugo had put out his hand for a handshake the first time they met, Sakusa’s eyebrows had nearly met each other in the middle of his forehead, and the contact was a brief, albeit still firm one.

Sakusa learns to follow their rhythm anyway, and Shugo can see the respect in his eyes for his team, despite his ongoing bickering with Atsumu (he should probably keep a close eye on that), but one thing he doesn’t do is hold back his comments. They’re blunt and to the point, but on the whole, they’re not inherently caustic.

After a while, Shugo detects a pattern: the spikes of irritation are random, but they always disappear after the worst bouts, and then Sakusa’s no longer glaring at Atsumu’s pointed remarks or sighing at Hinata’s antics; the peace lasts between one to three weeks, and then Sakusa’s back to throwing down an insult every other day before the cycle repeats itself.

He’s pretty sure it’s because, contrary to popular belief, Sakusa Kiyoomi _fucks._ There’s a fresh glow about him on the first day where he comes in relaxed and unbothered, and sometimes, Shugo catches him wincing at particularly strenuous stretches on those days.

It’s not a big deal; the older members have kept a running tally of Adriah’s revolving door of partners since the man first joined, and as long as Sakusa’s being safe, it doesn’t really matter to Shugo.

Or at least, it didn’t.

The storm above Sakusa’s head hasn’t abated in the past month, and Shugo keeps watch as Sakusa’s shoulders tense up, his back hunched and his words grow even more bitter with every day that passes. Even Hinata stays away from him, his expression a mixture of worry and frustration despite the eternal grin on his face, and Atsumu doesn’t seem to have an ounce of self-preservation in his body as he snarls back at Sakusa, smirk still in place.

But it’s when Sakusa rounds on Bokuto of all people who’d been caught in the cross-fire, nearly growling, that Shugo finally steps in before anyone can get truly hurt.

“That’s _enough,”_ he warns, looking at all of them. “Atsumu, maybe can it fer a while, hmm? Go calm yerself down, and bring Bokuto with ya. Sakusa,” and he hides the satisfaction he feels at the sight of Sakusa’s mouth pursing into a pout, guilt and anger potent on his face. “We’re discussing this later. Take five, everyone!” 

When Shugo turns away, he catches Inunaki’s eye. No one else notices the raised eyebrow from the libero, or the quick nod Shugo gives him, answered with a sharp smile.

Training is tense when they continue, but the team pushes through anyway, and by the time it’s over, everyone else leaves after their showers instead of lingering around like they normally do.

In any other circumstances, Sakusa’s out of the door as soon as he’s done with cleaning up, but Shugo’s pleased to see him standing by his locker, clad in a hoodie and sweatpants, no mask on, and those broad shoulders nearly up to his ears with every step Shugo takes towards him until he’s a couple of feet away, arms crossed as he stares Sakusa down.

Without any preamble, he starts with, “Yer pent up, aren’t ya?”

Sakusa frowns, but the sudden appearance of a flush on his cheeks is hard to miss. “I’m not sure my private life is any business of yours,” he sniffs.

Shugo snorts. It really wasn’t, but he can’t have any disharmony in the team—competition season’s right around the corner, after all. “It is if yer chewin’ out the rest of the team.”

A stricken look crosses Sakusa’s features, and the guilt from before returns. “... I apologise for that.”

“It’s not me ya gotta say sorry to, but I’ll let it slide fer now,” Shugo shrugs, and asks point-blank the question that’s been running around in his mind for the past week. “How come yer not doin’ anythin’ about that dry spell o’ yers?”

At that, Sakusa looks away, and Shugo’s eyes are caught on the way the other man fiddles with the ends of his sleeves. It’s… Unexpectedly cute. “The person I’ve been seeing moved away a couple of months ago,” he answers through gritted teeth. “I haven’t… Been able to make any other arrangements.”

So he _was_ right; Sakusa gets around, but for some reason, he hasn’t done anything to solve this issue, which seems at odds with what Shugo knows of him. “Pretty sure there are plenty o’ apps out there, or ya can just find someone in a bar or club somewhere,” he points out, and then, “Yer a good-lookin’ kid, after all.”

Shugo has to hold back a smile when Sakusa sucks in his bottom lip at the rather innocent compliment.

But Sakusa shakes his head, arms coming up to hug around his sides as he says, “That’s… That’s not really the issue. I just—no, wait,” he looks up now, expression pinched, clearly embarrassed at the topic at hand.

 _(Good._ Shugo likes them embarrassed.)

“I shouldn’t be talking about this, I’ll—I’ll apologise to Bokuto tomorrow, and—and I’ll take any punishment—”

He cuts in before Sakusa can properly work himself up, hands up in a placating manner, schooling his expression into something warm and trustworthy. “Sakusa. Yer obviously goin’ through a rough time, and I wanna do what I can ta help. I’m yer captain, after all.”

Seconds stretch into an eternity, but Shugo’s pretty well-known for his patience. He’s willing to wait, whichever way this might end up going.

Sakusa manages to meet his eyes in the end, and his voice is firm when he asks, “You’d… Find someone for me? Or…” He gives Shugo the fastest onceover he’s ever received, but it doesn’t successfully hide the interest in Sakusa’s look, burning with a flash. “Are you literally going to give me a helping hand?”

Shugo finally gives in to his smile, and shrugs easily. “Whichever yer comfortable with, kid.”

If he hadn’t been staring so hard at Sakusa, he would have missed the slight shiver that passes through Sakusa at his words, particularly—

“What else d’ya like besides me callin’ you kid?”

Perhaps Shugo must have been an absolute saint in his past life, because that innocuous question causes Sakusa to bite down on his lip, eye contact abruptly disrupted as he tears his gaze away, jaw clenched and shuddering out a breath, nose flaring slightly. Fingers dig deep into clothed forearms.

(Shugo wonders if he’ll get to know how they feel on _his_ skin instead.)

Still, Sakusa replies dutifully, “You can. Be a little rough. Just talk more like—like that, and—and touch me.” 

When Sakusa doesn’t volunteer anything else, Shugo takes that as his cue to step forward, eradicating the bubble of comfort he’d offered Sakusa earlier. There’s barely any space between them now, and this close, the scant five centimetres between them is clear enough.

“That desperate already?” he asks calmly.

Sakusa’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t immediately reply, choosing to stay quiet, still looking away—perhaps to preserve the shreds of his dignity.

There’s no room for that here, though.

A gasp escapes Sakusa when Shugo finally uncrosses his arms, and lifts a hand to grab Sakusa’s chin, thumb and forefinger digging into the sides of his jaw as he drags Sakusa’s gaze to meet his eyes, pushing his head back against the locker behind. “I asked ya a question, Sakusa,” he growls, taking care to drop his voice, just to see what it’ll do to the other man.

He’s not disappointed; Sakusa practically goes limp in his hold, mouth forced open from the position, and he gasps out, “Sorry—yeah, I—I am, Meian-san.”

It takes everything in Shugo to not surrender to the way Sakusa’s clearly offering himself up right now; but Sakusa needs something a little more specific, and he’d accepted Shugo’s help to give him what he needs. It would be absolutely remiss of him to not follow through.

They stay long enough in that stance for a little bit of saliva to trail down the side of Sakusa’s mouth, and Shugo shifts his hold so his thumb can trail that line of spit sneaking past the corner of Sakusa’s full, pink lips.

Shame he keeps them hidden so often underneath the mask. “Mmm. Messy,” he comments idly.

He steps back, taking his hand away, and relishes in how Sakusa’s knees seem to buckle underneath him as he immediately reaches back for the lockers behind him to keep himself upright. “Strip fer me, kid,” Shugo tells him, and then Sakusa’s instantly reaching for the hem of his hoodie, movements adorably clumsy and eager as he tries his best to quickly get rid of the garment.

But that wasn’t what Shugo had asked for.

“Nuh uh, I said _strip,”_ he sighs, injecting disappointment into his tone, and Sakusa freezes. “Slower, kid. If this is how yer takin’ off yer clothes in front of people, it’s no wonder ya haven’t had much luck.”

The flush in Sakusa’s cheeks deepens, but he nods, taking a deep breath before he’s pulling up his hoodie once more—but he does it slower now like Shugo had asked, _sensuous,_ like he’s trying to impress Shugo with the arch of his back as he stretches his arms up and behind him, putting the hoodie on the bench nearby. His arms linger over a sculpted chest, the ridges of his abdomen, fingers trailing down the visible happy trail before they’re pulling down his sweatpants, and—

“D’ya always go commando, or were ya hopin’ fer somethin’ like this ta happen?”

Sakusa startles for a moment, but he bends down anyway, face conveniently hidden by his curls as he mumbles, “... The latter. Sort of. I… I was going to go somewhere and… Deal with the issue.”

When he straightens up once more, Shugo regards him with a raised eyebrow and remarks, “Wouldn’t have pegged ya fer a slut.”

He’s rewarded with a muffled moan and Sakusa’s half-hard dick twitching. It’s long and pretty, just like the rest of him, bending slightly to the left and as Shugo continues to stare, Sakusa’s hands tremble, like he’s dying to cover himself up in front of his captain.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothin’ I haven’t seen before,” Shugo says off-handedly, and this time, red splashes violently across Sakusa’s pale skin, and he moans a little louder, but it’s barely enough to satiate Shugo’s thirst. The locker room grows warm with every moment that passes, and he’s having the time of his life figuring out just what exactly gets Sakusa going. “Lay yer clothes down, and kneel on ‘em,” he instructs, and Sakusa makes no comment about the potential hygiene issues that would bring, silently obeying his words.

When Shugo tells him to kneel, he drops down carefully, hands on the inside of his thighs, probably thinking of Shugo’s comment from earlier, pulling his pale legs apart to spread them wide open, back barely touching the lockers as he looks up at Shugo for further instructions.

(He’s never seen Sakusa more obedient than this very moment right now, and Shugo spares a second to mourn all of the troubles his past self had gone through with this teammate of his.)

“Get yer hand on yer cock,” Shugo finally says. “Show me how ya want it.”

The frown returns. “Meian-san?”

Fuck, Shugo’s going to have such a good time ruining him. “Did I stutter, kid?” he replies, and chuckles. “Hell, I never actually said if I’ll touch ya, did I?”

Sakusa blinks.

Shugo grins, and bids his time until he can run the edges of it against Sakusa’s skin. “So make it worth my while.”

There’s a split second where Shugo thinks maybe this is more than Sakusa might have bargained for. He stays still anyway, and waits for Sakusa’s next action, the ball completely in his court. But to his surprise, Sakusa’s shoulders stay relaxed, and his curls flutter a little as he lets out a deep sigh. “... Do you have lube?”

He doesn’t, but Shugo’s got the next best thing.

In response, he walks over, and kneels down right in front of Sakusa, taking in the blown out pupils, mouth slightly agape, and how Sakusa looks at him like Shugo is his salvation and damnation all in one.

(He could get used to that look.)

Then he takes Sakusa’s wrist, brings it to below his mouth, and keeps eye contact with Sakusa the entire time as he spits into Sakusa’s calloused palm.

This close, there’s no mistaking Sakusa’s reaction, and Shugo’s grin widens at the whimper he fails to suppress. He walks back and takes a seat on the bench facing Sakusa, and nods at the younger man, a silent message for him to get on with it.

Sakusa spares a glance at the hand Shugo had spat on, before bringing it down to start stroking himself—a hiss escapes him as he wraps his fingers around the length, and Shugo notes down all the minute reactions his body gives; Sakusa’s free hand grasps his thigh, both legs trembling as he tightens his grip around the tip, a moan slipping through clenched teeth.

It doesn’t take long for him to get all the way hard, and Shugo hadn’t been lying before; Sakusa is incredibly handsome, with alabaster skin and moles dotting his body like constellations. His muscles are just a little leaner than Shugo’s, but they are just as whipcord strong, and he looks downright sinful like this, precome oozing from the slit, back bowed and hips fucking up into his own hand.

At one point, Sakusa’s eyes flutter shut, and Shugo takes that chance to fire off a quick text.

It’s not even five minutes since Sakusa had started when Shugo breaks the silence, leaning forward with his chin in his palm, asking, “How close are ya?”

Sakusa’s eyes stay shut, but he manages to grit out, “P—pretty close, almost, ugh—”

That’s enough, then. “Stop.”

The groan Sakusa emits is the loudest he’s been all evening, but it’s barely more than a sharp exhale as he moves to grip the base of his dick, sending Shugo a betrayed, wide-eyed look that sends shivers of greed down his spine. “Why?”

“Don’t recall sayin’ ya could come,” Shugo answers, and moves to sit upright, fingers crooking at Sakusa in an unmistakable manner. “Now c’mere.”

He expects Sakusa shifting to stand up, so he _tsks,_ causing Sakusa to look at him in confusion, a knee already upright, hand on the floor to balance himself.

“Stay on yer knees, kid.”

Sakusa's smart enough to decipher what it means, and Shugo takes in the flush that travels from his cheeks down his neck as he visibly contemplates the request. But this time, it doesn’t take long for Sakusa to go back to his knees, both hands placed on the floor now as he crawls slowly towards Shugo across the floor, erection bobbing with each sway of his hips until he stops in front of the bench, and resumes kneeling once more, face tilted down like he can’t bear to look at his captain in the eye.

Heh. Too bad.

Shugo grabs a fistful of curls at the base of Sakusa’s neck, and gently, but firmly, shoves his face right up against Shugo’s crotch.

It draws an obscene keen from Sakusa, whose mouth is open, and Shugo sees a pink tongue pressing against the bulge in his shorts, and his grip tightens just enough to hear Sakusa break some more.

“God,” Shugo groans, and his composure is cracking already, but he doesn’t think it matters much when Sakusa looks this far gone already. “Doesn’t seem it’ll take much ta get you off. Could ya do that? Come from just my cock stuffed down yer throat?” he asks, pulling Sakusa’s hair to drag his face side to side on his clothed erection, and Sakusa takes it all without a single complaint.

He’s whimpering now, stutters out, “I don’t—I don’t know—” and when Shugo pulls him back, his hands come up to grip Shugo’s knees, thin, spindly fingers digging in and causing him to hiss. 

“Let’s try,” he murmurs, and pulls down his shorts and underwear with his free hand, tucking them underneath his balls, and watches as Sakusa’s eyes grow big at the sight of his cock, jaw dropping like he’s getting ready to swallow it whole. It’s a little too heavy to be fully upright, but Shugo’s been hard ever since Sakusa had looked at him with teary eyes, jaw trapped between Shugo’s fingers, wondering how good Sakusa would look with his lips wrapped around a dick.

Now, he gets to find out.

With one hand still in Sakusa’s hair, Shugo reaches down to grip his length, and watches Sakusa’s eyes flutter as he smears the tip over Sakusa’s lips, precome mixing with spit in some perverse imitation of lipgloss. Then he taps his cock against Sakusa’s mouth, once, twice. Sakusa’s mouth stays open, and Shugo thinks he’s held back long enough for both of their sakes.

He tightens his hold on Sakusa, and says serenely, “I’m sure I don’t need ta walk ya through this next part, even if it’s been a while. Ya ready fer me, kid?”

A laugh nearly bursts out of Shugo at Sakusa’s silent, desperate nod, and he leans forward as much as Shugo's hold allows, tongue lolling out to lick at the head.

Shugo doesn’t shove it all in at once—he wants Sakusa to enjoy this, after all. He pushes the head in first, and lets Sakusa get acquainted with the feeling in his mouth and the musk on his tongue for a few moments, exhaling roughly at the warm velvet heat wrapping around him before he continues to move—stops for a second when Sakusa gags, but the younger man doesn’t do anything to push him away, hands still clamped around his legs. When he’s fully in Sakusa’s mouth, he stays like that for a long moment, gritting his teeth at the feeling of a tight throat working over the head of his shaft, Sakusa’s hands trembling around his thighs.

“This what ya been lookin’ for, kid?”

He thinks Sakusa might be trying to nod around his cock, but Shugo doesn’t give him the chance to move, bringing his other hand to wrap around the edge of Sakusa’s jaw as he pulls back out, and then thrusts back in, repeating the motions and relishing in the slick sounds Sakusa makes. There are tears in Sakusa’s dark eyes, his gaze beginning to glaze over as Shugo continues to face fuck him, spit and precome leaving his chin shiny. Despite apparently not having a partner for the last couple of months, Sakusa’s blowjob skills are comparable to some of the best Shugo’s had; he’s clearly enthusiastic and doesn't have much of a gag reflex, tongue curling around Shugo and doesn’t resist as Shugo uses his hold to position the other man in a way that gets him deeper down Sakusa’s throat, nose flaring as he tries to breathe as best as he can.

“So he decided to let you fuck him, huh?”

It’s the first time Sakusa truly chokes around him, and his hands come up to push Shugo’s hips away at the new voice in the room. Shugo lets him turn his head to find Inunaki standing in the doorway of the locker room, smirking as he takes in the sight of Sakusa, naked and on his knees, lips bruised and a trail of spit connecting his mouth to Shugo’s cock.

“I—Inunaki-san,” Sakusa falters. “You—”

He’s interrupted by Inunaki’s tongue clicking in disappointment. “Meian-san didn’t tell you to stop, Sakusa-kun,” he drawls, but doesn’t move any further from the doorway, intently watching Sakusa for his next move.

Shugo waits, too. He wasn’t lying—he’d do anything that Sakusa was comfortable with, even if it means possibly having to leave the MSBY gym about as pent up as Sakusa had been for the past few weeks.

When Sakusa finally breaks eye contact with Inunaki, Shugo half expects him to get up and call it quits; he’d been ready to talk the other man through a comedown, but then Sakusa meets his gaze instead and quietly says, “Sorry. Can… Can I continue?”

 _God,_ why haven’t they done this with Sakusa before?

The grin on Shugo’s face makes a reappearance, and he strengthens his grip on Sakusa once more, as he resumes thrusting into Sakusa’s mouth. He’s rougher this time around, now that he knows Sakusa is okay with Inunaki’s participation, and before long Sakusa’s whining again, his hands limp in his lap now as he allows Shugo to abuse his throat.

“Shit, you’d make a nice cocksleeve, kid,” he observes, only the quick hitch of his breathing betraying how much everything is affecting him right now, and Sakusa whines around him, drool escaping the corners of his lips, cheeks wet with his tears. “Look at that. Tears of joy? How cute.”

Inunaki walks over to stand beside Shugo, and doesn’t even bother hiding the fact that he’s palming his erection through his pants as he looks down at Sakusa.

“Is that what you want? You’d act like a brat just to get the captain’s dick in you?”

* * *

Shit, Kiyoomi has _missed_ this.

He hasn’t been touched in weeks, none of his toys have scratched that particular itch in him, the one that demands rough hands and dirty whispers reducing him to nothing but a hole to be filled, and right now he’s having _the_ _time of his life._

Meian’s cock is almost too thick for him to take like this, but he doesn’t give a damn, not when it’s making his mind go absolutely hazy with lust. He can’t do much with how Meian is basically cradling his skull like he's a fleshlight to be fucked into, but he swirls his tongue around the length as best as he can, hollowing his cheeks to suck Meian off every time he pulls back out, and with Inunaki in the room, Kiyoomi can only imagine what else they’ll do to him.

(He really, really hopes Inunaki keeps talking at least if he’s not going to touch Kiyoomi. Both of them talking down to him like this feels like a dream he hadn’t dared to think of at all.)

Kiyoomi feels Meian move, and he follows mindlessly, lowering his mouth down as the captain sits back down on the bench, trying to angle himself to get as much of Meian still in him as he can.

His ears burn when Meian chuckles above him. “Can’t get enough of it, kid?” 

From beside them, Inunaki pushes and prods at his cheek, like he’s inspecting a piece of meat. The thought really shouldn’t be hot, especially when Kiyoomi is the meat in question, ready to be devoured by the other two men. “He really is gagging for it,” Inunaki hums, and then moves to stand behind him. “Lift your ass up, Sakusa-kun.”

He obeys the voice instinctively, choking a little around Meian as he arranges himself, now with his hands on the captain’s _(thick,_ oh god, why are they so goddamn _big)_ thighs—he gasps when Meian tugs his head up a bit so the tip rests on his tongue, just as Inunaki pushes down on the small of his back, forcing him to arch his rear higher.

It’s an uncomfortable position, and he can feel his knees stinging slightly already, but he’d be damned if he’s going to call it quits now; there’s finally a dick in his mouth, two sets of hands on him, and he’s not giving up until he comes at least once.

And then all thoughts fly out of his head the moment his cheeks get pulled apart and he hears a distinctive throat noise, followed by a sudden wetness on his hole.

He can’t help jerking up at the realisation that Inunaki had just _spat_ on his hole, but Meian chooses that moment to push his head down back down, and his weak attempt at struggling subsides quickly, even as a finger starts to smear the glob of spit around the edges of his rim, causing him to cry out around the intrusion in his mouth.

_Fuckfuckohgod please just—_

“You mind if I get his ass ready?” Inunaki pipes up like he’s asking whether Meian thinks it’s going to rain today, and not like he’s about to fuck Kiyoomi’s ass with his fingers.

Meian huffs a breath above him; Kiyoomi can’t see him from this angle, but he doesn’t think he needs to, not when he’s got Meian’s musk in his nose, trimmed hair against his cheeks and throat feeling thoroughly used. “Feel free,” Meian rumbles, and Kiyoomi hears the faint sounds of plastic, followed by the feeling of something cold dropping down his crack.

The slide of Inunaki’s knuckle into him coincides with Meian pulling him off, and Kiyoomi doesn’t even want to think of how wrecked he looks right now, but the smirk on Meian’s face clues him in, as two of Meian’s fingers pushes into his mouth at the same time Inunaki’s does, a long digit that seems to have purposely missed that particular sweet spot in him.

Through his blurry vision, he sees Meian smile down at him. “Yer that fucked up already, huh?”

He is.

“Please,” Kiyoomi gasps, and goes cross-eyed when Inunaki presses in with two wet fingers this time, instantly reaching for his prostate and causing his knees to weaken underneath him. He doesn’t even dare to try and sneak a look at his erection, even though it’s starting to hurt and—

“Oh, _oh god,_ Inunaki-san,” he moans helplessly when a hand wraps around his shaft, steadily pumping it as Inunaki continues to stretch out his asshole, the crest so much closer than it had been a minute ago. He doesn’t even realise he’s grinding back against Inunaki’s fingers, and then he’s choking out another cry around Meian’s knuckles when the hand around his cock is removed and a powerful hit lands on his ass.

He gets another slap, this time on the underside of his thigh, before Inunaki resumes stroking him off. “Four fingers in you and you turn into an absolute slut,” he says derisively, like he’s disgusted. “Is that all it takes to get you to behave, Sakusa-kun?”

Yes, if it gets him destroyed like this, mind empty, his body merely a container of pent up desire and nerves.

Above him, Meian’s started to trail the head of his cock against Kiyoomi’s lips once more in an absent manner, like he’s not even aware of his actions. “You wanna fuck his ass?”

“Nah,” Inunaki replies dismissively, and takes his fingers out, rubbing the pads against the edge of Kiyoomi’s now-relaxed hole. “I’ll have his mouth this time. Turn him around?”

_This time?_

Kiyoomi doesn’t manage to properly squash the hope that there will be a next time.

He’s lifted up by the grip Meian has on his hair, the pain at the base of his neck a delicious sting, and despite his bulk, Meian and Inunaki manhandle him easily, getting him to face Inunaki this time, the captain kneeling right behind him—at some point, he realises his clothes are back underneath his knees, and then he’s staring right up at the libero for once.

The other man hasn’t even taken off his shorts, but he’s not unaffected; there’s an obvious tent right before Sakusa’s face, even as Inunaki gives him an unimpressed look.

“We’ll consider a next time if you’re good enough,” he remarks casually. 

Before Kiyoomi can even come up with a reply (a plea, _“I’ll be good, please”_ right on the tip of his tongue), he loses his grip on his thoughts when Meian unceremoniously sticks four broad fingers inside of him, causing him to squeak and driving him almost too close to the edge already.

Then he takes his fingers out, and something else starts rubbing up against his crack, and Kiyoomi dimly notes it as Meian’s cock, the friction making him shiver with anticipation. “I’m wrapped up, but I bet ya wouldn’t have minded it if I came in ya, right? Fill yer ass up like the slut ya really are.”

The idea of having his captain’s cum trailing out of him and down his thighs nearly makes Kiyoomi fall flat on his face, arms weak at the thought as his head hangs low, a sharp whine escaping him.

But Inunaki’s hand sneaks into his curls, pulling him up mercilessly until he’s frantically grasping at Inunaki’s legs for balance, trying to escape the pain, Meian’s hand on his lower abdomen, and he’s been waiting so long for someone to just fuck him already that when Meian starts sliding in, the head of his shaft bullying its way into Kiyoomi, still so _huge_ and intrusive despite Inunaki’s efforts to loosen him, he’s abruptly reminded that he’s been on the edge for the past ten minutes and he _needs_ Meian to slow down or else—

“Wa—wait, Meian-san,” he stammers, voice sharp and high-pitched as he tries to move away from the intense pressure, “I—I can’t—don’t—”

But Meian must understand what’s happening, because he _doesn’t stop._

Instead, he quickens his pace, and practically _shoves_ the rest of his huge cock inside Kiyoomi.

The scream Kiyoomi lets out is awful and humiliating, but not as much as the fact that Meian had made him come untouched with merely one thrust, and his hole twitches around the length, only the hold Inunaki has on his hair and Meian’s hand underneath him keeping him upright as he rides out his abrupt orgasm, practically impaled on Meian’s dick.

When his climax abates at last, he’s breathing heavily, body lax from his release.

“That feel good?” Meian murmurs, rubbing his stomach, now painted with white. Kiyoomi nods feebly, but his eyes go wide with fear when Meian grinds against his prostate, causing him to tremble from the overstimulation. “Well, ya might have had yer fun, but we ain’t stoppin’ yet,” and then Kiyoomi’s _wailing_ as Meian starts to properly fuck him.

A couple of half-hearted protests fall from his lips, the feeling of _notoosoon_ causing him to flail around as he mumbles out, _“Nonono,_ it’s—too much, Meian-san—I can’t, please—”

But then he’s cut off when Inunaki grabs his hair again, shorts pulled down now, revealing his erection, thick and veined against his lower abdomen. Kiyoomi is briefly horrified to find that he’s drooling at the sight, but then Inunaki slaps his cheek with it, precome smeared with the tears and snot steadily dripping down his face.

“Cocksleeves don’t talk, Sakusa-kun,” he scolds with a sigh, like he’s correcting Kiyoomi’s receive position, and plunges right into Kiyoomi’s open mouth, both of his holes now completely filled to the brim with his teammates’ cocks.

It’s _so much;_ Kiyoomi nearly passes out from the pain and the pleasure warring together, throwing his system into a haywire mess as he trembles fiercely.

A hand rubs his shoulder, soothing and grounding. “Ya alright to keep goin’?”

It doesn’t matter that he can’t nod properly; he tries his best anyway, and ends up nearly choking for his actions as he pushes back against Meian, shivering uncontrollably from the onslaught of sensations.

The discomfort doesn’t fully fade, but he doesn’t attempt to pull Meian off anymore, arms hanging uselessly by his sides now, both of them pulling wounded noises from him every time they bottom out. There’s no rhythm to their movements, like all they give a damn about is chasing the heat of Kiyoomi’s mouth and ass, and he’s overwhelmed by how _used_ he feels.

At one point, Meian grabs both of his wrists in one large hand, and uses the leverage to pull Kiyoomi back onto his dick, like Kiyoomi was nothing but a toy to fuck into. Inunaki stops moving his hips, choosing to drag Kiyoomi up and down his length with the hold on his hair, and his head is spinning from how out of control he feels, the body he usually meticulously looks after now merely a vessel for his teammates' satisfaction.

Against all odds, his cock starts to fill up again, and before long he’s hard once more, and it doesn’t escape either of the other men’s notice.

“You’re really getting off to this, aren’t you?” Inunaki snorts. “What a whore.”

Oh god, Kiyoomi’s going to _die—_

Meian laughs, his free hand moving up to pluck at Kiyoomi’s nipple, pinching it roughly and causing him to yelp. “Gotta say, yer comments _are_ pretty funny sometimes. But,” and then Kiyoomi’s eyes roll back as Meian snaps forward, twisting the bud in his fingers and causing him to howl, “I think ya look best with yer mouth stuffed and yer ass plugged up like this.”

He nearly misses Inunaki’s answering cackle as he whines loudly, before it’s choked off by the dick that seems to be trying its best to cut off Kiyoomi’s air, and the hand that comes down to wrap around his neck, undoubtedly feeling around the bulge in his throat.

“Mm. You do make a pretty little slut, Sakusa-kun.”

The shame is hot in his stomach, and Kiyoomi revels in the debasement of his very self, but then Meian adds:

“Next time yer actin’ up, maybe we’ll get some of the other guys in here too. Have ‘em teach ya a lesson.”

He mewls at the thought of the rest of his teammates finding him like this, _using_ him like this, erection jerking and heat rising in his belly. Kiyoomi doesn’t even get to properly entertain it in its perverse atrocity before Meian grunts out, “Fuck, ya got so tight around me, is that what ya want? Wanna be the team’s bitch?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Inunaki answers nonchalantly, and then proceeds to obliterate the last of Kiyoomi’s sanity when he says, “Maybe you can share that burden with Atsumu, huh?”

_Fuck oh fuck Atsumu—he—_

Desperation seizes him as he sobs hoarsely, spitroasted on a cock on both ends and imagining Atsumu in this very position; Meian shifts behind him until he’s leaning down on Kiyoomi’s back, hands still trapped between them, as he whispers against Kiyoomi’s ear, “Ya really like that, kid? I’d say we could teach Atsumu how ta fuck ya just the way ya want—like a fuckin’ pathetic cockslut.”

It’s that thought, of Atsumu behind him, strong hands around his wrists, fingers buried in his hair and the feeling of Atsumu’s balls pressed right up against Kiyoomi’s face that sends him spiralling, and when Meian moves a hand down to wrap around his length to stroke him off, Kiyoomi is propelled into another earth-shattering orgasm after three, four pumps. A yell is ripped from his lungs while he thrashes around, Inunaki slipping out of his mouth as he throws his head back, crying out desperate _ah ah ahs,_ Meian grinding against his prostate, prolonging the intense pleasure that threatens to pull him away from consciousness.

He continues to twitch and shake as Meian picks up his speed, and he’s close to begging the captain to pull out when Meian presses right up against Kiyoomi’s back, teeth latching on the base of his neck as he shudders against Kiyoomi, hips rocking leisurely until they come to a halt.

His face gets tugged back up, and Kiyoomi instinctively closes his eyes as Inunaki’s breathing stutters, the squelching noises sounding more and more frantic before there’s a wet splash on his face; Kiyoomi faintly registers it as Inunaki’s cum, dripping on his nose, cheeks and lips. When Inunaki lets go of him, he slumps back against Meian’s shoulder, exhausted from the vigorous fucking session he’d just been subjected to.

Two months he’s been searching for something like this, for someone to take him apart and ruin him until all he’s left with is a mixture of carnal lust and wanton hunger, but now that his urges are finally satiated, he finds his mind clearing up a little faster than he wants to. With that comes the stark awareness of the sticky fluids on his skin, the mess that’s beginning to irritate him, and he blearily noses around at Meian’s jaw, voice completely wrecked as he asks, “Can—can I clean up, now?”

To his shock, Meian jolts, enough to make him moan, owing to the length still buried in him, and then there’s a quick kiss pressed to his temple, hands coming around to soothingly rub against Kiyoomi’s sides. “‘Course, kid,” he replies, and there’s an arm holding him up as Meian slides out of him carefully, shushing him with nonsensical syllables when Kiyoomi hisses, sensitivity wracking his body.

He thinks it might be a while before he can properly use his legs again, but then he’s shouting in surprise when Meian proceeds to bridal carry all seventy kilos of him, causing him to stutter out, “Me—Meian-san, what the fuck?!”

But Meian just sends him a grin and adjusts his hold on Kiyoomi’s thighs, says, “Calm down, I got ya.” Somehow, it manages to shut Kiyoomi up while Meian brings him to the showers, Inunaki following behind and then veering off somewhere else as the two of them enter the stall that Kiyoomi prefers, the second one with the strongest water pressure.

Inunaki comes back with a stool and Kiyoomi’s bag of toiletries, the one he’d left in his locker—he’s not sure how Inunaki knows the combination lock digits, but he doesn’t have time to parse it all out as Meian gently lowers him onto the stool, rubbing the small of his back when Kiyoomi doesn’t manage to hold back a pained sound when he settles on his sore behind. He’s not sure what he was expecting next, but it wasn’t for Meian to turn on the shower, reach for the washcloth and start cleaning the cum off of his face.

Kiyoomi draws back, bewildered as he reaches for Meian’s wrist. “I can do this myself,” he says, even though he’s not sure if he wants to anymore, now that this option has been offered to him. “You really don’t need to. I’ll be fine.”

Ten minutes ago, Meian’s grin was enough to send him to his knees. Now, his smile is warm, much more like the captain Kiyoomi knows on the court and during team bonding nights, always ready to lend a hand to his team. “This is fer me too, kid,” he says kindly, and Kiyoomi’s chest burns at the blatant care and need, so he stays quiet as Meian begins to help wash the rest of his body. His arms and legs are scrubbed firmly, and when he cleans the lube off of Kiyoomi’s hole, he’s gentle in his thoroughness, letting Kiyoomi moan into his neck, shivering from the feeling. Then his scalp is kneaded gently, shampoo lathered into his curls before everything gets rinsed away.

When he’s helped to his feet, Inunaki’s waiting outside the door with a towel ready to wrap around Kiyoomi, having already freshened up while Meian was helping him shower.

Kiyoomi doesn’t protest when Inunaki rubs his chest, arms and legs with the towel, before tugging it around his waist, fingers coming to wrap around Kiyoomi’s wrist. “You usually pack an extra set of clothes, right?”

He nods dumbly at Inunaki’s question, and when they enter the locker room again, Inunaki proceeds to head to his locker, pulling out said clothes before helping Kiyoomi to slip into them with languid movements. Kiyoomi gets a few moments alone when the other man goes in search of another towel to dry his hair after he's told to sit on the bench, but it’s not enough to get rid of the satisfaction that’s already settling on his shoulders from the attention both Meian and Inunaki are showering him in right now.

After Inunaki towel dries his hair, humming tunelessly all the while, he reaches for the hair serum Kiyoomi usually uses, and asks, “I just gotta scrunch up your curls with this, right?”

By the time Meian walks out, Kiyoomi’s hair no longer resembles a wet poodle, and the haze in his mind is clearing at last. He feels almost completely normal again in the good way, and the mask that Inunaki had helped put on him earlier allows him to breathe his easiest in weeks. His bag is packed, and he’s ready to go home now, contentment wrapping around him in the form of a well-worn body and soothing touches.

Meian shoots him a grin, hair still damp and clad only in his towel. “Ya alright to make yer way back from here?”

He nods, and finds himself repeating, “I’ll be fine,” but this time he thinks they’re truer, at least.

Inunaki pats his arm and steps back, effectively allowing Kiyoomi to retreat back into his own bubble. “Just give either one of us a text when you get home, then.”

“Sure,” he says, and then something comes to mind, rooting him to the spot as he looks back at them. “About… About that last part…”

Inunaki frowns, puzzled, but the corners of Meian’s lips lift playfully. “We can talk about that once yer back ta yer normal headspace. Atsumu doesn’t have ta know anythin’ either.”

That’s… That’s good, then.

“... Thanks,” he answers, and bites his lip in deliberation, before firmly adding, “And, thank you, Meian-san, Inunaki-san. I’ll… See you two tomorrow, then.”

He doesn’t expect Meian to reply with a startlingly sincere, “Anytime, kid,” and it makes him blush, not missing the smirk on both of his teammates’ faces. He nods anyway, and leaves before he can embarrass himself any further.

And if later that night, while he’s getting ready for bed and he entertains the thought of a certain setter in a similar situation he’d found himself earlier, well.

He doesn’t need to know yet, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I know absolutely nothing about Meian and Inunaki but they're doms for sure and that's all that matters
> 
> let me know if I should tag anything else because I may have missed something out hah and um let me know if you?? liked this?? (I've never written pwp THIS h word so pls let me know)


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